A New Seuss File
by Fooberman
Summary: Complete. There comes a time when serious questions must be asked. There comes a time when a story must address serious issues. This isn't that time. This isn't that story. Enjoy. Please R&R.
1. The Darkness Within

A NEW SEUSS. . .  
  
Prologue:

I've changed my name, I've moved three times  
yet Fox's lawyers seem to find  
me, there's nowhere left to hide  
where Fooberman, they cannot find.  
  
Please hear, I mean no disrespect  
The show, you've left in some neglect  
The re-runs? It's just not the same.  
The way you ended things? For shame!  
  
I've no connection to your show  
(at least not so far as I know).  
This is a tribute, nothing more  
to something now beyond death's door  
  
Now much to my abiding shame  
to this I have returned again.  
This thing, I should have let remain  
In peace, within a shallow grave.  
  
Seuss Files in the rear-view mirror  
Never, EVER growing nearer.  
So I should have let things stay  
The story falling, page by page.  
  
But this, alas, I cannot do  
I wish I could write something new.  
But be creative? Not my thing.  
A goal that I can not attain.  
  
And so, like every other hack  
A sequel seems the perfect tack  
to take when I still wish to write  
though no ideas are in sight.  
  
So if you pass this story by  
I do not blame you; how could I  
When I, as you, are quite aware  
We've all done this, we've all been here.  
  
Chapter 1: The Darkness Inside  
  
Down the steps into the basement  
went Scully for the day's abasement.  
Fox had called, quite animated  
she knew the steps, the dance she hated.  
  
'What is it now?' she almost said  
before he lifted up his head.  
He set his papers on his desk:  
his clothes and hair were quite a mess.  
  
'How long have you been standing there?'  
he said. "Not long, I just got here",  
said Scully back, "But you're here early,  
not all cleaned up, you must have hurried."  
  
"Late, not early, actually",  
said Fox (she was stunned, naturally).  
"So then, you stayed here through the night?"  
"I don't need sleep, I have no life"  
  
"Can't fault the logic there", she offered,  
Now get some rest, that's doctor's orders"  
"I'll catch a few hours on the plane",  
he said, to her intense dismay.  
  
"I guess you think I'm going, too",  
she said, though she already knew  
the answer; he confirmed her fears.  
"Our flight's at nine, I'll meet you there"  
  
"And where, O Mulder, are we going?  
You know how much I hate not knowing!"  
"Baton Rouge, at first, at least.  
From there? Who knows? I guess we'll see."  
  
"I'll tell you more at DCA",  
said Mulder as he walked away.  
"You always tell me less, not more",  
said Scully to the now-closed door.  
  
She drove home, grumbling without stopping:  
packed her clothes (the F-Bomb dropping  
at a frequency, they say,  
the Navy's still yet to attain)  
  
The agents, in another hour   
met up at the ticket counter  
she saw the bags beneath his eyes  
he looked (she thought) but half-alive.  
  
He showed her what had kept him rapt  
All night and now had left him tapped.  
The photos, only three in number  
would not let his eyes find slumber.  
  
A boat, some water, something else  
She couldn't tell, he offered help.  
An off-shore platform in the Gulf  
A satellite surveillance shot.  
  
The call to board their flight then came,  
they trudged their way on to the plane.  
She meant to ask a few more things.  
He drifted off; she let him sleep.  
  
Chapter 1: The Darkness Inside (Continued)  
  
Mulder woke, the plane touched down  
They grabbed their bags and hit the town.  
The hotel wasn't hard to find  
The coon-ass food was mighty fine.  
  
Mulder, once again himself  
told her of the shots he held.  
Told her what the photos meant  
and of the boat's significance.  
  
The Gunmen hacked the DOD  
And grabbed the pictures in RT  
They thought they'd wasted half a day  
Then saw it right before their face.  
  
The boat? That's not a tanker there!  
But what would they be hiding here?  
Most anything, they realized  
10 miles out, no prying eyes!  
  
A friend let Fox enhance the shot  
It took 4 hours (its time he's got).  
He bounced the pic back to his friends.  
Like him, they were up late again.  
  
Enhanced, enlarged they saw for sure  
the details that had been obscure.  
The boat, they felt, they could ID  
and track down the conspiracy.  
  
It disappeared right off the earth  
The stories said it was reworked  
for what, though, no one claimed to know,  
they offered guesses, nothing more.  
  
Wicked things, for such expense  
to hide one's work would not make sense  
unless it was such as to be  
destroyed by notoriety.  
  
They passed along what they had found  
To Fox, to help him sort things out  
They went to bed, he stayed awake;  
He'd learned some more when morning came.  
  
The boat had been, a decade back.  
Decommissioned, sold for scrap -   
or so they said, but clearly not:  
the paperwork, they said, was 'lost'  
  
A few years back into the past  
the ship was seen again (at last)  
To most eyes without a change  
But to the wise, 'twas not the same.  
  
The cargo region, now much smaller  
was made, for leaks to start, much harder.  
As if, more deadly, now to all  
its cargo was than mere crude oil.  
  
Its records named Sir Caspian's Sea  
As the start of its delivery  
It made no claim of destination:  
the platform seemed a prime location  
  
At least for a next place to stop  
once more before the crude is dropped  
off at a refinery   
to be distilled to many things.  
  
By why bring Caspian oil here?  
There are refineries much more near!  
There's cheaper oil we can buy  
Fox could see no reason why  
  
Unless it was a redirection  
to give the hidden some protection  
from enquiring, meddling eyes  
who would not believe the lies!  
  
To Kazakhstan returned his mind  
He remembered: not good times.  
He felt it moving in his eyes  
He raged, "Krycek's still alive!"  
  
But this, more precious than mere oil  
Or gold or any fruit of toil.  
I say, without exaggeration  
it is man's end or his salvation.  
  
If the boat, as it would seem,  
has joined our Uncle Samuel's team,  
How did they come to own the plague?  
What was the bargain, with whom made?  
  
The Gunmen wished to see more pictures  
Hoping to so find some answers.  
The hacking part was little toil  
The pictures, though were hidden well.   
  
The photos they'd first found were not  
The first time that the tanker'd stopped:  
But several times in several weeks  
did the ship and platform meet.  
  
A helicopter also came  
once per week, to them it seemed.  
That workers, on it, came and went:  
Week on, week off, week on again.  
  
All this Fox said: Scully nodded  
(disbelief long past suspended)  
It all made sense in some strange way  
(best not to think too much, they say).  
  
"So this is what we're doing here",  
said Fox to Scully standing near.  
"Who is it going to and fro?  
Can't you see, we need to know!"  
  
Fox now finished, she replied  
(her pessimism would not hide)  
"We'll need much more to find the truth,  
But hey, what else have I to do?"


	2. A Binary Choice

Chapter 2: A Binary Choice  
  
They found the helipad they thought  
would be the helicopter's stop  
and trying to avoid harsh questions  
inquired of the destinations  
  
where they went and when and such  
They did not learn (alas) too much.  
They ID'ed the passengers and crew  
and thought that the next thing to do  
  
would be to learn of their connections  
to the CSM and his deceptions.  
Alas, they found no sign of this   
and were, by now, annoyed and pissed.  
  
They sought out each one of the crew  
to try to find out what they knew.  
There were some useful observations  
but none cracked the investigation.  
  
Apparently the crew they ferried  
was far less than the platform carried.  
Some, each week, would come and go  
but most were always there, they told.  
  
"Very strange, not ordinary"  
said the pilot to the query  
Mulder offered as to whether  
it was normal for some never  
  
to go home, but always stay  
out at sea, day after day.  
Mulder's interest now was piqued.  
but he knew not where to seek  
  
the answers he knew to be hiding  
in the light too brightly shining.  
Again he skimmed the list he owned  
of who upon the copter rode  
  
in hopes someone might have seen  
something that the X-Files team  
might find to be of use to them  
to bring to justice lawless men.  
  
Arriving at the list's first house  
Mulder went to look around  
leaving Scully to phone Skinner  
and to get a pizza sent for dinner.  
  
Just before he rang the bell  
BANG-THUMP, a shot, a body fell.  
He grabbed his gun, he burst inside,  
yelled "FBI", looked side to side  
  
He heard a calm, familiar voice,  
"Drop your gun, you have no choice  
I'm on your side, I'm here to help  
I don't want to kill you as well"  
  
Mr. X showed Fox the corpse  
he'd shot him, he had no remorse.  
Mulder sought an explanation.  
He got one, but no satisfaction.  
  
"The platform's where you need to be.  
But first you'll need to have ID  
The security, I know, is tight  
but with my help you will get by.  
  
You'll replace him on the chopper  
when it heads out o'er the water.  
You'll have a week to look and learn  
but then you will have to return.  
  
I can't arrange another trip,  
so get it right, for this is it.  
Once you're there, I cannot help  
and I'll deny we spoke, as well.  
  
The story starts like most of them  
With him you hate, the CSM  
The syndicate in its possession  
3 mid-level nuclear weapons.  
  
A Middle East extremist group  
(there's little that they wouldn't do  
to get those bombs and use them here):  
What they got, I think, is clear.  
  
What they gave, I do not know,  
but they acquired the Russian Oil:  
Black Cancer, call it Purity  
it did not seem to them to be  
  
the thing they wanted for their war  
that Allah's reign might be restored.  
They got that for which they aspired  
For what the CSM desired.  
  
But when the bombs go off, what then?  
That's perfect for the CSM!  
The fear and panic of a war  
will make his group yet more secure.  
  
The platform holds the Purity,  
And there the work's done secretly  
The weapons are, I know not where,  
and of their plans I'm not aware"  
  
Scully now had come to look  
to see why Fox, her partner, took  
so long to finish and return;  
she feared that something had gone wrong.  
  
She entered as the killer left,  
finding Fox alone instead.  
He seemed, to her, to be in shock;  
The words he spoke: Coherent? Not.  
  
Over dinner he relaxed  
and told her what had come to pass.  
About the plot X had disclosed  
and preventing what he had foretold.  
  
Scully should, they felt the same,  
return that night to DCA,  
for "AD Skinner should be told!  
This thing's too big for us to hold!"  
  
Mulder would go on as planned  
to sea in place of the dead man  
and see what he could do and learn  
then (they hoped) safely return.  
  
Chapter 2: A Binary Choice (Continued)  
  
The time has not yet come to speak  
of Special Agent Scully's week,  
save that her return was safe  
and that she worked upon the case.  
  
Mulder, now, has our attention;  
as he drove to his destination,  
reached the heliport quite early  
(the liftoff was at 7:30).  
  
He'd memorized his psuedo-name  
and all that facts that with it came.  
He felt as ready as he'd get,  
But wished the test was not quite yet.  
  
No one noticed Fox's presence  
No one asked him any questions.  
No one spoke and no one smiled  
It all felt creepy for a while.  
  
Still he could not shake the fear  
Scully could not help him here.  
No one could, he was alone;  
the feeling of control was gone.  
  
The retinal scan was a surprise;  
he hardly could believe his eyes  
when he passed without incident  
(What X had promised, he had meant).  
  
Mr. X gave him no training  
or description of the tasks awaiting.  
Fox felt very unprepared  
but it seemed that the people there  
  
like him, didn't a clue  
or even any work to do.  
They sat around, they watched TV  
anything to pass the week.  
  
Mulder kept things to himself  
exploring when he could as well  
but there were doors that would not open  
options that could not be chosen.  
  
Rooms he wasn't cleared to enter  
Where (he assumed) the action's centered.  
By day 6, his courage bolstered  
(even without gun or holster),  
  
Fox had turned his normal paces  
towards locked doors, forbidden places  
In pocket of his pants  
he'd found a card not there by chance  
  
nor by his will had it got there  
But Mr. X prepares with care  
And staged it to be found that day  
Putting everything in place  
  
for Mulder to now see the things  
that taunted and dispatched belief.  
But he (quite rare) was well prepared.  
Nothing they could show him there  
  
would shock him more than all the things  
in his life he'd already seen.  
And so, still calm, he saw half-grown  
living hybrid embryos.  
  
He took a sample of the oil  
(A souvenir for all his toil),  
Raided files and stole some papers  
Decided then to end the caper.  
  
Went back to his room with fear:  
did they know that he had been there?  
Were they coming, would he die?  
He could not fall asleep that night.  
  
Well before the sunrise came  
the copter took them all away.  
Across the water, back to land   
where Mulder could feel safe again.  
  
What he could do, he felt he'd done  
He'd fought the fight, he felt he'd won.  
He missed Miss Scully, even Skinner  
If he could cook, he'd make them dinner  
  
just to hear them speak again,  
to see them coming to meet him.  
the week apart had seemed so long  
and he was ready to go home.  
  
Chapter 2: A Binary Choice (Continued)  
  
Now Scully's story can be told  
how that week did, for her, unfold.  
Remember, this tale's Skinner's, too  
and of their friend both nothing knew.  
  
She called up Skinner while she waited  
For the flight to DCA and  
told him all that she'd been told  
and all the facts as they were known.  
  
He told her to go home and sleep,  
and come next morning they would see  
What means to take to solve the case  
and make the danger go away.  
  
Skinner knew the sides were drawn,  
and which side everyone was on.  
Mulder would be compromised   
If her tale were to see the light.  
  
"Still, the danger must be faced  
a wish won't make it go away"  
he thought and sighed, and hung his head  
he wished he knew what to do next.  
  
He went home late and came in early  
A little tired, a little surly.  
Still unsure of what to do  
"Agent Scully, how are you"  
  
He said as she stood at his door  
"Well, I got to bed at 4,  
But four hours' sleep isn't bad  
when none is the alternative.  
  
But you, sir, look like you are reeling,  
Please do tell me how you're feeling."  
She replied, it was his turn,  
"A few small steps above an urn.  
  
But that's not what matters now,  
the weapons must be found somehow.  
Trust is now an unsafe bet,  
for everyone is in their debt"  
  
Scully drifted off in thought,  
longing for a simpler 'ought'  
Things were now so complicated  
They lied, deceived, and obfuscated.  
  
"Then sir, I think the task is ours  
we must do all within our power.  
And if we fail, God help us all,  
but we will try before we fall."  
  
Scully stopped and he said then  
"I think I know where to begin.  
A batch of weapons were destroyed:  
outdated, risky to employ.  
  
To take a few would be quite easy  
The paperwork, alas, it could be  
better far than now it is  
for three to get lost in the mix  
  
would not be hard for those who knew  
the codes and people and how to  
cover everything with lies  
that's where I'd first turn my eyes.  
  
The paperwork, as Skinner feared,  
where not wholly disappeared,  
was poorly done and made no sense  
'twas bordering on negligence.  
  
The facility kept OK track  
of vehicles that came and left  
including date, and time, and weight  
as they came and went away.  
  
Skinner chose a month-long range  
That seemed most likely to contain  
The thefts that they were tracking down,  
and so their scope was narrowed down.  
  
They scoured through the traffic log  
Not quite knowing what they sought.  
Something in the dates and weights  
that told them not all things were straight.  
  
Three contenders reached the fore,  
As much as Dana'd wanted more  
They had a plan that might work out  
"It could be worse", she told herself.  
  
The next few days were hardly fun:  
weigh stations, hotels, gas stations  
were plotted out to track the trucks  
to figure out where each one went.  
  
As painful as the process was,  
it culled the list of 3 to 1  
and tracked the truck to Bakersfield  
in Cali with the oil-fields.  
  
So to LAX they flew  
the 99 then led them to  
the next step in this sorry tale  
the hand in which the clue was held.  
  
Here the trail turned cold at first  
(suffice to say, they feared the worst),  
Then a nameless letter came   
that spoke of shipments large and strange  
  
from Santa Barbara out to sea  
and to a field that rarely sees  
investments made of any kind  
The rewards don't justify the time.  
  
Production records showed no sign   
of work done during that short time.  
It seemed the trail ran out to sea  
if beyond there then it may be  
  
that the trail would then be dead  
and no more could be done or said,  
but first they'd need to go and see  
whate'er it is the truth might be.  
  
Now Santa Barbara-bound they were  
The heliport along the shore.   
A small world it truly is indeed,   
for someone waited, them to greet.  
  
From amidst a cloud of smoke  
a familiar voice then spoke,  
"Agents you have been expected;  
my hostly duties I've neglected"  
  
So said the hated CSM,  
then Skinner spoke (but not to him),  
Agent, you can deal with this.  
From LA's office you can get  
  
anything you want or need  
for this to end successfully."  
Now turning to the CSM  
he spoke to his alleged friend.  
  
"You led us here, what do you want?  
What have you done, what have you sought?"  
Skinner asked, the other spoke,  
"You're here, you must already know!  
  
You think me an incarnate devil,  
just as well for you will never  
know all I have done and why  
or what it cost me in my life  
  
On the platform you will see  
two of the three things you seek.  
The third is not for you to find,  
I have my reasons, it is mine."  
  
The CSM returned to silence,  
Skinner (almost moved to violence)  
spoke again with pointed questions  
aimed in the CSM's direction.  
  
"Why are you here? What are you hiding?  
What on earth should we be finding  
on the bayou, on the gulf  
What are you hiding from us all?"  
  
The answers gave no satisfaction,  
but still they came without retraction:  
"What makes you think I'm here to help?  
Or that I wish your being well?  
  
I confirm what you believe  
but what, sir, have you given me?  
Insults, meddling, prying eyes  
when Mulder would not be alive  
  
oh yes I know his every move  
he's dead at any time we choose  
out on the platform by himself  
he only got there with our help.  
  
We will get him home unharmed  
but by our gift, he's only earned  
a bullet set between his eyes.  
Look at you, you look surprised!"  
  
Skinner wished to hear no more  
he stood and walked towards the door;  
he wanted to be far away  
from the game he'd lost today.  
  
"What if, today, you were arrested?"  
Skinner said, it was protested  
"What charge? What can you make stick?  
Illegal smoking, that is it!  
  
But we have power at our disposal!  
Your career, my friend, is over.  
The X-Files, without your protection,  
dead and gone, no lamentation.  
  
Mulder, oh yes, what of him?  
we've turned a blind eye, let him live;  
but if we choose that eye will see  
that would be bad for him, I think.  
  
He's in a dangerous position,  
you should act with more discretion,  
in my hands I hold I hold his life:  
Cuff them? He will surely die.  
  
So, sir, am I free to go?",  
the CSM asked, "yes or no?"  
Skinner answered, "Leave me be!  
I do not wish your face to see.  
  
I do not wish your voice to hear,  
I do not wish your presence near,  
as long as I have life and breath. . ."  
the CSM'd already left. 


	3. Waking Up From the American Dream

Chapter 3: Waking up from the American Dream  
  
Skinner's phone then started ringing  
Dana, to him, news was bringing.  
As the CSM predicted  
so it was that she reported.  
  
She asked him how she should proceed  
"I want you to return to me.  
Let the others look for longer,  
we've got other things to ponder."  
  
To Mulder did her thoughts now turn  
and hopes for him, a safe return.  
The copter took her back to land  
so she and Skinner could make plans.  
  
He told her of the conversation  
(or was it more a confrontation?)  
he had with the CSM  
from start to less than stellar end.  
  
They knew that Special Agent Mulder  
would soon be riding on a copter  
from a platform back to land  
that he would soon be safe again.  
  
If he was safe, still, at that time,  
but the CSM implied  
as much, so they felt cause for hope  
but with fear still present, though.  
  
Now to the hotel them returning  
Checking out, to LA turning  
From LAX to Baton Rouge  
and to the room that Fox had used  
  
(They thought to keep it would be prudent  
and Sam, they felt, could well afford it),  
Nothing now to do but wait  
and hope and fear and maybe pray.  
  
Fox had hoped to see their faces  
Sir Skinner and the Lady Dana  
as the bird first kissed the ground  
but saw that they were not around.  
  
Still he knew it to be prudent  
that they not then there be present.  
So his hopes remained quite high  
that they, like him, were quite alive.  
  
The paper gave no indication  
of news while in his isolation  
He assumed that all was well,  
at least had not yet gone to hell.  
  
Chapter 3: Waking Up from the American Dream (Continued)  
  
Skinner strode down to the lobby  
and there met Special Agent Scully  
Each was still a little groggy  
as they got their morning coffee.  
  
Back to agent Mulder's room  
to hope that they would see him soon.  
Then an hour of waiting, yearning  
then the sound of a key turning  
  
then the door seen swinging open  
and that for which they had been hoping.  
Fox now present, safe and sound,  
The case was almost over now.  
  
With handshakes, hugs, and words and tears  
Did each to other then come near.  
But this, too, passed and they moved on.  
They packed up, checked out, and were gone.  
  
To the airport, to the plane  
To DC (and home!) again.  
A days rest and a good night's sleep  
the next day they would have to be  
  
back at work, back in the basement,  
back for a new day's abasement.  
Life goes on, so don't complain;  
no one listens anyway.

Epilogue

You spent some of your sacred time  
upon this little tale of mine.  
My thanks to you I wish to give  
for all the days that you shall live.  
  
And though I know I'm in your debt,  
please let me make one more request.  
Tell me, is it good or bad?  
Should I rejoice or feel sad  
  
for having pieced these words together  
and left them on the net forever.  
Nothing better can a write,  
and so I say, for now, good bye.


End file.
